When I worked at my late uncle’s junkyard during junior high school, one of the regular customers (a crusty coot who resembled a cantankerous Roy Rogers sidekick wannabe) assured us that he luxuriated in a steaming bathtub each and every night.
We’ve got a thief in our midst. Every night he wrestles the lid off the metal garbage can and hangs head first, eating his fill, until we turn the carport light on and he saunters off, unapologetic.
It was many years ago that I stopped by the post office to gather mail. Among the bills was a small ivory envelope. My name, though misspelled, was presented in printed hand. The postmark was from a midwestern state.
Lately, when my friends and I visit, our conversations move quickly from hot-weather talk to what medications we are taking and symptoms we are having. Now that we have found ourselves well past the mid-century mark, it has become pretty clear that health-wise, it’s downhill from here.
Two weeks ago in this space, I asked readers to help find some new faces to lead the presidential tickets in the 2024 election. “We need a fresh start,” I wrote. I expressed concern that a couple of elderly guys, Joe Biden and Donald Trump, are the current front-runners for 2024. I suggested…
I didn’t know the exact date for the “dog days” of summer to set in, but my body has been telling me that they are definitely here. I know it’s an essential part of God’s creation and order, but I just don’t fare well in hot and humid weather.
While in Santa Claus, Indiana, to cool off at Holiday World, the Tyree family took a side trip to tour the Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial in nearby Lincoln City.
Several years ago, Bishop Reuben Job wrote a small book, “Three Simple Rules: A Wesleyan Way of Living,” that reminded Methodists all over the world of something we had forgotten: the General Rules.
I’ve lived for over 25 years in the same house on a quiet street in town, something a bit unusual for a United Methodist pastor. I’m immensely grateful for this space where my husband and I have raised our kids and begun to grow old together.
I’m only two degrees of separation from the Olympics. It makes the wide world of sports smaller to know someone who knows someone who’s sponsoring and designing track uniforms for a West African team.
At the recent Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC), a noted anti-vaxxer, Alex Berenson, announced to the crowd that the government has failed to meet its goal of getting 90% of the population vaccinated against COVID-19. The audience erupted into resounding applause.
Sometimes people ask me whether there will be dogs in heaven. What they really want to ask is, “Will my beloved labradoodle be waiting for me at the pearly gates when I finally arrive?”
There were two or three fellers on the street. I was another feller on the street. Well, none of us were actually on the street; they were standing across the way just talking, and I was on the sidewalk just walking.
Amid all the depressing news of disasters, political fighting and sports figures, interesting stories are being reported about UFOs (unidentified flying objects).
What happens in the news doesn’t always pair well with a morning cup of coffee. I comment on those headlines. I write about politics and hope that means compromise. More often, it means controversy, because politics is a struggle for power.
It’s been 25 years or so since I first stayed at the Peabody Hotel in Memphis. Proclaimed as the South’s Grand Hotel, I have since stayed a couple of dozen times, at least.